Who is Gwen, and why is she leaving graffiti in my garden?
This is our Japanese cucumber plant. It has the most awesome tendrils; they seem to have an innate intelligence. There is a tomato cage surrounding the plant, and the tendrils almost unfailingly find the wire tiers and wrap themselves around, many, many times. Tightly.
It helps to hoist up the plant's weight as it grows. A vertical cucumber plant produces straight cucumbers; if it sprawls on the ground, they come out curled.
I've tried guiding some tendrils to what I thought would be a useful foothold, but they undo themselves when I'm not looking. "Butt out, garden amateur."
I'm puzzled why this particular tendril got all up in the grill of this innocent leaf. I guess it needed to grasp something, anything.
But what do you think it's trying to tell me?
Oh. No. I think I got it.
The cucumber plant's name is Gwen.
Welcome to my backyard, Gwen. Live long and prosper.
"Dup dor a'az Mubster," as they say in Vulcan. Which is probably about as legible as your next graffito will be.